


Amid The Roses

by voleuse



Category: The OC
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-21
Updated: 2004-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll never be good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amid The Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the future, sometime.

They meet in a pricey hotel room every two weeks. Ryan had suggested a motel room after the second time, on the beach at 3 a.m., but she just looked daggers at him, and he didn't make any suggestions, ever again.

*

 

The first time was in the pool house, after his third or maybe fourth breakup with Marissa. He'd been in the shower, and Julie had shown up with a box of stuff that Marissa had kept in her room, in the house next door.

When he'd emerged from the bathroom, towel about his waist, and scrubbing another over his hair, she'd been waiting for him. Sprawled on a chair in a way different from the females in Newport, and he remembered that she wasn't from around here at all.

"Mrs. Cooper." He eyed her warily, and clutched at his towel protectively. "What do you want?"

"Such manners, Ryan." She clucked her tongue, pointed at the box, never once looking at the slick of his body. "In the box. Your things, I believe?"

He peered in, recognized the CDs, a T-shirt, a leather cuff. "Yeah." He nodded. "Thanks."

She stood up, swayed over to him like a pin-up, and looked him in the eye. "You're making my daughter miserable."

"Sorry." Her perfume wrapped around him, and he couldn't think clearly, naked and four inches away from a sexy-as-hell woman, never mind who she was. "I didn't mean to."

"Of course." Her lips quirked, and he stared at them. "Will you stop?"

He leaned forward, captured her mouth with his.

It was the only answer he had, really.

*

 

The Newport Beach Radisson is the fanciest place he's ever stayed, but it's not the priciest in town. Acquaintances of the Coopers and the Cohens prefer to stay in crazy-as-fuck-Oliver's parents' hotel, so he and Julie can slip into this one without much fear.

They arrive separately anyway, because they're not stupid.

The standard rooms aren't too costly, for three hours every two weeks, though Julie ends up paying for the whole night. She also tips generously, but Ryan doesn't think about that. Doesn't think about what, exactly, whatever the hell they have _is_.

He doesn't think in terms of lovers, because they're not in love, and he doesn't term them fuck buddies, because they're anything but friendly.

Sometimes he wonders what she thinks they are. He can't see anything but lust in her eyes. Want and anger and scorn.

He fucks her and hopes she'll close her eyes, so he won't have to see that expression anymore.

It never works.

*

 

They've just finished with their seventh time, not that he keeps track, and Ryan treats himself to a hot shower, complete with fancy shampoo in tiny plastic bottles.

He's half-surprised when her silhouette appears against the glass, and the door clicks open to reveal her. Her eyes, insolent as always, ease over his body like nails, and he curses as he hardens, again.

She smirks at his discomfort, and steps into the shower. Pulls the door shut behind her, and snakes an arm around his shoulders. Wraps a hand around his cock, and strokes.

He gasps, inhaling some water in the process, and watches as her hair damps down. "Julie."

She leans into him, ankle rubbing against his calf. "You're young, right?" Squeezes his erection, licks his neck.

He groans and turns them carefully, so as not to slip. Presses her back against the tile as she scissors her legs, hooking one around his hips. Adjusts his angle and thrusts into her by inches.

Revels in the sound she makes, a luxurious, drawn-out hiss.

He raises his hands to her breasts, cupping and squeezing roughly. Before her, it had been too long since he had fucking _curves_ under his palms, and he's not about to let hers go to waste.

He plunges into her oh so slowly, mindful of their precarious position. Hot water sluices over them, and he doesn't want to think about what would happen if either of them slipped.

He's not going to pretend they don't care about being caught. He knows better. He doesn't want to imagine the looks on Sandy's and Kirsten's and Seth's faces, let alone Marissa's. He's sure Julie doesn't give a damn about the Cohens, but she _does_ care about her daughters, no matter what Marissa thinks.

He knows she'd kill him before he had a chance to tell anyone about their trysts. He also knows that nobody would find his body. Julie Cooper is a ruthless bitch, no doubt about it.

It's part of what he likes about her.

*

 

The last time they fuck, Ryan bends her over the table by the window, leaves the curtains open so they can see the sun rise.

He knows it's the last time because Marissa has called him five times in the past week, and once, he called her back.

Trapped between his body and the cool tabletop, Julie does a slow, obscene spiral with her hips, inspiring a string of obscenities that Ryan hasn't used since he last got into a fistfight with his brother. He grasps her hips hard and knows she'll be able to trace the shadow of his fingers for a week. It makes him smile.

She curses, and he pulls out of her, startled. He isn't prepared for her sudden whirl, and she shoves him onto the bed with a snarl. Plants a knee on either side of his hips and starts fucking him again without preamble.

He bucks up against her helplessly, but when he reaches for her, she pins his arms down, scowling. His entire body arches back, and he knows he can't last much longer.

"Look at me," she hisses into his ear, and he tries to focus. "Ryan."

"Yeah?" He wants to touch her, but she presses his wrists into the mattress. He's surprised at how strong she is, and he almost doesn't catch her next words.

"You will never be good enough for her." Her voice is thick with anger, but her lips curve into a smile.

He arches, rolls, and pins her down with his body. Takes grim satisfaction in her mewl of pleasure. He lowers his head down to kiss her, and whispers against her lips.

"Neither will you."

And then he's finally, finally coming, and she is as well.

He's sure he doesn't see tears in her eyes, because that wouldn't be like her at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears  
> Her snaky crest.  
> \--_The Seasons_, James Thomson


End file.
